


All We Do Is Drive

by jarith



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bottom Wally, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship goals, I'm not kidding, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sexual Tension, There is an actual plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 21:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10228217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarith/pseuds/jarith
Summary: Jason Todd is not familiar with speedsters, but he's got plenty of the unforgettable experience when one day he asks Dick some help, and Dick brings Wally West along with him.Or the "let's fuck my older brother's best friend" prompt you all like and crave for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i have a whole essay prepared why i think jason/wally can absolutely work and it is one of the hottest and most interesting ships out there. look at this story as part of that essay. please, enjoy! :)

Jason doesn’t think he is an impatient person, per se. When he has something in mind, when there is a target in his sight or a mission on the table, time becomes irrelevant as long as he can make sure he reaches the goal eventually. But he definitely can’t deny the tiny fact that he has anger management issues. With capital letters. A.M.I. could be his middle name.

He wants to say it’s all the Lazarus Pit’s doing and fault, but it’d be a blunt lie and only a stupid asshat lies to himself. He’s already had this particular problem before his death, considering how many criminals didn’t leave the scenes without extra bone cracks and unnecessarily dislocated shoulders, or the amount of arguments he had with Bruce even about the simplest moral matters. But the inability to hold himself back in certain situations worsened since he was murdered, then came back to the living with the help of an ancient evil puddle. He has issues, he is perfectly well aware of it, thank you fucking much. However, glancing at his watch which shows that Grayson and his little friend are ten minutes late, doesn’t exactly make it easy to maintain at least a minimum level of constant calmness. 

He should have said no when Dick pushed him to accept his help. Especially when he stated that he knows someone who would be perfect for the task at hand. Dick and his kindergarten boy and girl scouts. Although Jason needed help indeed, and he was unable to reach Kory, Roy was out of town, Timmy got wrapped up in some shady shitty Gotham business with the big old bat and Jason trusts only a few people enough to team up with them. Apparently, Dick was available and weirdly gracious with offering his service.

Paranoid? Him? No fucking way.

Jason slides closer to the edge of the building to take a quick look at the officially abandoned, otherwise occupied warehouse on the other side of the road, four floors below. He’s raking the street like an owl looking after any movement or anomaly. According to all indications, they have a quiet night, no cars or bystanders outside, which is a real bless. Jason might not have sleeping problems after painting the concrete with criminals’ brain matter, but he would rather not shoot innocent civilians in the process.  
Even Jason has some boundaries.

He hears a quiet scraping noise behind himself, like the sound of a pebble on concrete when someone steps on it, but it doesn’t startle him. He feels in his guts it’s not an enemy, the rings didn’t go off. He is safe.

Turning his head around, first Jason sees Dick appearing out of the shadows. The athlete look, black haired young man’s wearing his Nightwing uniform, pitch black with the royal blue bird symbol on his chest. The tall, lanky guy who is following him not so far behind is exactly the opposite of him. Even if Jason forces himself to do his best not to be a jerk, the other superhero doesn’t fit in Gotham. Like at all.

If his vividly ginger hair didn’t attract attention, his uniform, which plays in warm yellow and strong red colours, absolutely would. It’s definitely not for stealth and not for a mission where it’s crucial to stay hidden and uncovered. A freaking speedster who is unable to focus longer than three seconds is not someone who helps Jason’s cause but makes a plus liability he doesn’t need.

Jason bites on the inside of his cheek. He feels as anger starts to rise deep inside him.

“Red Hood. This is Kid Flash.”

“Yeah. A fucking poster on his forehead would be nice though. This outfit might throw off the colour-blind population of Gotham.”

“Don’t worry, dude.” It can’t be seen from his helmet, but Jason’s eyebrow runs to the line of his hair hearing the cheerful tone and that ‘dude’ at the end. The way the guy slides his hand on his own chest doesn’t help either. However, it is quite impressive how his uniform turns into dark gray except for the lightning symbol in the middle the next second. “Stealth mode. Am I good for the population of your beautiful city now?”

A smartass. A red haired smartass. _Dickie-bird certainly has his type_ , Jason concludes.

“Can we talk about the mission now or you two need some more time for changing fashion advices?” Dick asks curiously, enjoying the situation too damn much in Jason’s opinion.

After they join him at the edge, he points towards two parts of the silent building.

“I take the west side, east is yours,” he addresses Dick who nods. “The building has five rooms. The biggest is full of huge metal shelves and packages, that’s the most possible place to look for our targets. The gang is not too big, they have at least five members inside, fifteen at top, but two of them are metas.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Jason manages to hold back a hiss when he rolls up the sleeve of his brown leather jacket. On the inside of his forearm there is an ugly, still very sensitive mark which looks exactly like a handprint. One of the metas grabbed him a few days ago. It took him by surprise because he focused on the other meta who is able to absorb the light in her surroundings and form some kind of energy balls from it. The other one sneaked up on him while he was distracted and burned through his skin to his flesh with a single touch. Beside the painful aspect of the sensation, it was an edifying experience, and made him consider getting back up for the second round.

With a little luck, Kid Flash (what kind of superhero name is _that_?) will be actually helpful. His presence will definitely be new for the metas.

“That must hurt,” the speedster whispers with sympathy.

“Had worse,” Jason answers surlily. The way Dick narrows his eyes behind his mask doesn’t avoid his attention. He just doesn’t care. The first ex-Robin can comfort his buddy later, when Jason doesn’t have to assist to it. “You are coming with me, by the way. They expect me but they expect me alone.”

“Got it, boss.”

The snapping retort is on the top of his tongue but he somehow manages to stop it before it’s late. The sooner they get over with this, the sooner Jason can get rid off him. The thought is oddly motivating.

“I need DNA samples from the metas and one of the gang members has a pendrive which is top priority. The more members we can take out without being noticed, the easier it’ll be with the others.”

“Yeah, because our missions always go according the plans,” Dick snorts, looking at the west entrance, his fingers already on the metal stick, attached to the belt around his hips. “We meet in the middle?”

“Exactly.”

Except for Kid Flash who simply disappears from their side the moment Jason rises, they get down using the fire escape, then they easily cross the empty road avoiding the light circles of the street lamps. Dick sleeks towards the other end of the warehouse, while Jason finds the speedster with an open door on the west side. He wants to ask how he did it. He really does. But then, the kid can run faster than the speed of sound, so breaking locks can’t be that hard for him either.

Without a word Jason enters the building, however he hears the small sigh behind him. Once again, the sooner they finish this, the sooner Dick can comfort him and tell him to ignore Jason and his asshole attitude. Everyone will be happy.

The mission didn’t go according the plan, of fucking course.

Jason has the suspicion the universe holds a grudge against him, because even with the help of a properly trained vigilante apprentice and a speedster superhero, he successfully collected a concussion and a gunshot wound. The only thing that cheers him up is the fact that they’ve got everything he needed to move on with the plan of cutting out the gang permanently, and one of those annoying as hell metas ended up in hospital. The nicest part: it wasn’t even him. It was _for_ him, though.

After they enter the warehouse, they can’t take two steps, and Jason gets shot. The bullet pierces through his shoulder; it is a clean shot, it goes through without hitting any bones or else that could block its way, and it almost lands in Kid Flash if it wasn’t for his incredible speed. The pain registers in Jason’s brain but he’s learned how to ignore it. From a half glance he makes sure the bleeding is not that bad. He can deal with it later. His instincts switch him into a half defense, half aggressive mode. He drops the gun from his right to his left hand, rises it and shoots in the darkness. 

One puff sound is the sign of his hit.

His eyes get used to the darkness pretty quick, therefore the second man doesn’t have the same chance before Jason puts him down.

“Hey!” The speedster’s face shows as much anger as his voice. “You killed them!”

“I did. You’re welcome,” Jason says simply, lacking all emotions. He just can’t believe Grayson didn’t warn his little friend before took him on this mission. They seriously don’t have time for the superhero moral bullshit right now. “By the way, they started it.”

“They started— How old are you, dude?!”

“Old enough to ask you stop calling me dude, kid.”

Then he turns around and leaves Kid Flash there. Hopefully, the redhead can take the hint and follows him.

The element of surprise is long gone thanks to the previous little incident, so Jason doesn’t even try to proceed slowly or quietly. He kicks in the door, and starts sending bullets around the room in the direction of every movement. He can feel how the wind runs behind him, it almost makes him shiver, and his next target disappears in front of his eyes. The next second three unconscious gang members are lying on the floor near Jason’t feet, while the speedster wipes off his glove covered hands.

“We don’t have to kill them to be successful.” 

Jason sighs. This is one of the reasons why he loves working with Roy. He doesn’t need to explain why he kills his enemies. Roy gets it. He still respects Oliver Queen’s methods so tries to avoid filling graveyards, but at the same time he doesn’t tell Jason to reconsider his life choices. He doesn’t make a fuss about it. Unlike all these heroes. Even Batman. “I don’t have enough time or patience to explain how wrong you are. Let’s search these douchebags and move on.”

Obviously the speedster’s opinion is strongly different from his, because he opens his mouth to say something, but then his eyes moves a little above Jason’s right shoulder, and his pupil widens, his expression becomes alarmed. 

The Lazarus Pit hasn’t just brought him back from the dead. It made him stronger and faster than he had been before his death. Even his injuries healed a little more efficiently. He could react to danger more quickly than an average person. Still, it is a brand new experience to get moved by someone who can run faster than the speed of sound. Jason literally blinks only once, and the air gets knocked out of his lungs, his back is pressed against a wall and he stands on a completely different spot of the room, between two metal shelves. His skin tingles and his mouth suddenly turns dry. 

Kid Flash rests one of his hands on Jason’s chest, which is pushing him into the wall with a surprising amount of strength, but the seriousness in the vividly green eyes is even more unexpected for him.

“Stay here.”

Then he is nowhere to be seen.

Jason is not exactly proud of how much time he needs to get his shit together after this little interlude, and it’s not even because the kid ordered him what to do, but the way his body reacted to the unusual speed and the forceful touches. He is especially not fucking proud because he is still standing there like a freaking idiot when the meta who is able to transmogrify light into energy balls hits one of the shelves beside him. The whole thing with packages and boxes fall on top of him and even though he can prevent the serious wounds by ducking, he is still late by a second. This is how he wins himself the concussion.

When he comes to his senses again, he’s lying on the floor, breathing in all the dust and dirt on the ground. His nape feels like a pincushion where needles are invisible but the pain is real and wanders through his body from his head to tip of his fingers.

The next second a boot lands on his face, pressing his whole throbbing head against the hard floor. He is sure as hell going to kill someone else tonight. Preferably as painful as possible.

“What’s wrong, you little punk?” Jason recognizes the meta’s voice in an instant. “You look great under me. Maybe you should keep the position until I finish you off.”

“Sure.”

Fortunately, his right hand is free and the shelf doesn’t mean a problem when he reaches down and grabs the knife on his thigh. A quick motion and the sharp steel cuts through the woman’s black pants, flesh, tearing apart her Achilles tendon making her scream like a fury. Blood drops rain on Jason’s face and he catches himself slightly smiling as the weight of the foot finally disappears.

It takes him a few seconds to get out beneath from the shelf, but he is still faster than his injured enemy. The woman’s trying to stay up leaning on a shelf, but in spite of the darkness Jason can see how the blood puddle is becoming larger with every second under her and how she is sinking down with every passing second. She definitely can’t fight him anymore or she risks an even faster bleeding out. 

Jason can’t stop himself despite the fact that his head feels like a damn church bell at noon, and grins at the meta as he crouches down to gather a sample from the ground. The small test tube with the blood lands in one of the inside pockets of his jacket. 

“Maybe you should keep this position until I finish you.” He uses her own words as a retort.

The knife is already in the air, when two things happen at the same time: the characteristic noise of sirens of authorities sneaks inside the warehouse and the sound clearly gets louder and louder; then someone pats him on the shoulder. 

“Let’s go. The police is on the way here.”

For a nanosecond the image of stabbing the knife into the chest of the speedster is so tempting and vivid in Jason’s head that he almost believes he actually did it, but first time in his life he experiences what it means to be _slow_. Incredibly, pathetically slow.

His lips haven’t started moving yet when his surrounding completely changes. Instead of darkness, big shelves and dirty floors there are stars above his head, clear air brushes his arms and he’s standing on the top of a ten floor high building which is a mile away from the warehouse - at least. 

After he quickly gets over his nausea that the abnormal speed has caused, Jason glares at Kid Flash who also looks pissed. 

The first question that leaves his mouth is not the one he originally wanted to ask, but his brain still hasn’t caught up completely.

“Did you fucking call the police?”

“I did. You killed more than enough people tonight and we got everything you wanted.”

“We haven’t really.”

“Actually…”

Subduing his anger doesn’t get easier as he realizes Dick was already on the rooftop. The older ex-Robin’s leaning against an air-shaft, idly spinning a pendrive around his index finger and looks suspiciously neutral. Dickie-bird’s face of disapproval. 

Huh.

“Do me a favour.” Kid Flash doesn’t only look pissed off, his voice is full of irritation as well, and the way he pushes some kind of fabric, soaked with blood against his chest is unmistakably aggressive. “Next time you need something, don’t call me, don’t call your big brother to call me. Forget I even exist, thanks.”

The speedster sends a quick glance towards Dick before in a sudden whirlwind he vanishes before their eyes.

Jason thinks maybe he should feel bad. After all, the kid’s help is a great part of their success tonight. However, he doesn’t feel bad. He also thinks, he has a tiny reverse psychology issue. The stronger someone suggest him something, the bigger the chance that he will do exactly the opposite.

 

Jason doesn’t know that much about speedsters, but curiosity is nagging at him for days non-stop before he gives in and settles down onto his old couch with his laptop and a can of beer. For starters, he decides on looking around the internet.

He never met a speedster personally before Kid Flash, especially since the antihero did a flawless job with not stepping in Central or Keystone City in his whole life. Apparently, these two sister cities are the home of the fast superheroes, they have a complete and quite impressive Flash Museum in Central City, several years ago the mayor gave the Flash the Key of the City. They are loved by the citizens who live there, no doubt, and this is the first thing Jason finds very interesting. Growing up in Gotham which is one of the darkest, cruelest corners of the world, learning from someone who is respected, feared, hated, stepping on a road that eventually makes you an outlaw… Jason doesn’t requires people’s love or blessing, he knows what he is doing. He believes in what he is doing is right and on the long run creates a better place to live in for humanity (and for aliens on Earth as well). But he can’t help and wonder what that could be like? Being cheered, being someone who people are grateful for, being wanted around. Especially the last thing. Jason always felt like he hadn’t been wanted by anyone, and seeing that it is possible… it gives him a strange, uncomfortable feeling. Makes him think of what ifs he really doesn’t want to, probably ever.

After checking some photos and videos about the Flash, next he opens the database he borrowed from Batman and occasionally updates from the same computer. It contains every ongoing and closed investigations, detailed files on criminals, villains, bands and all the good guys: official and potential Justice League members, Teen Titans, Runaways. 

Although Jason is most interested in a certain redhead in yellow spandex, he wants to go in a certain order so the first file he chooses carries the name ‘THE FLASH - JAY GARRICK’. Then comes ‘THE FLASH - BARRY ALLEN’ which turns out to be almost like a freaking book with its 120 pages. Even though he skips the bigger part of it, it still takes him an hour or so to click on the one he wanted to read the most originally: ‘KID FLASH - WALLY WEST’.

“Wally,” he snorts unintentionally. “What the fuck happened to the first names in this family.”

His eyes just ghost over the first few paragraphs about his family background. He lived with his parents until he turned eighteen, has no siblings, his studies are good, got some great offers from excellent universities, but the speedster never accepted any of them for some reasons. Jason highlighted that segment for himself, so he can check into it more later. It seems off that West hasn’t gone for the scholarships considering his family isn’t exactly rich. They have enough money to lead a comfortable, nice suburban life, but it’s sure as hell they can’t pay for the semesters, and why someone with the brain of Wally’s would not try to get a diploma? He has to realize being a superhero doesn’t pay well and it’s also not something you can do till the end of time. You need a life beyond all this crap. (Jason is not often a hypocrite like this, he actually prefers to deny the accusation every time it comes up, thank you very much.)

A few minutes later he reaches the first exciting point: when ten year old Wally West recreated the experiment slash accident that previously had made Barry Allen the Flash. So the kid is actually very smart. He blew up the garage, he indeed got himself into a hospital and caused plenty of heart attacks among the adults who cared about him, true, but that kind of knowledge the experiment required? A stupid, absolutely reckless idiot who Wally pretends to be can’t have. It reminds him of Roy. Too clever for their own good.

The detailed description of the nature and the development of his speed is a fascinating reading. Wally’s currently known top speed is around Mach 2 which, after a quick google search, it turns out means that it is around 761 mph. That’s the speed of sound through standard atmosphere. That’s fucking fast. Considering the kid only 24 years old (another fact that surprised him, he thought Dick is the older one between the two), he has plenty of time to work on it furthermore. 

Jason notes this and goes on. 

He spends exactly two more hours on the research, only taking breaks twice. Once for ordering something to eat, once for a quick bathroom visitation and changing the bandages on his shoulder wound. It looks much better, one or two days more and it will heal completely, probably without leaving any scars. One of the few advantages of being resurrected by the Lazarus Pit. His concussion needed only a long sleep, and he doesn’t feel pain at all, the scab just uncomfortably stretches when he moves too much. 

On his way back to the sofa he grabs another beer from the fridge. 

It’s almost 2am when he closes his laptop, lies back and just stares at the ceiling. 

He finds the speedster very interesting; his abilities are definitely worth to be admired, not to mention how useful they can be in several different situations, but also Wally’s history so far. The way he gained his power, the way he uses it, his personality. And he knows the redhead means trouble. Every time Jason gets interested like this, it comes back sooner or later to bite him in the ass, but in spite of this the ‘fuck logic’ strategy predominates usually. 

He already knows he is going to call the guy again with whatever reason he can find. Wally doesn’t seem to be a person who needs much persuasion anyway.

 

“I don’t know, Dick. It’s really not a company I fit in. I always use one fork and one knife to get the food into my mouth, I don’t know any French words and I strongly believe the cheaper the wine is, the better it tastes.” Wally says as he walks towards the couch with a big bowl under his arm that he delicately positions on his lap after he sits down.

“Oh, come on! You don’t have to talk with anyone, you’ll be there to save me from a possible brain damage or keep me from suffocating someone in champagne.”

“I still don’t know why you have to go,” the redhead murmurs. He impassively shoots a piece of popcorn in the air using his thumb, then easily catches it with his tongue. Slowly chewing it he continues. “Bruce is out of town again?”

“He has an important board meeting. I’m not exactly a fan of these public charity events either, you know it, but someone has to represent the Waynes.”

Of course he knows. He and Dick are best friends since forever. It’s not that Dick doesn’t realize he has responsibilities by being a part of the Wayne family, a former Robin and now Nightwing who was raised and trained by Batman himself. He is perfectly aware of that it’s not always about what he wants. To tell the truth, it’s the opposite. Dick Grayson has sacrificed a lot of things in his life and he is willing to let himself get scarred anytime in order to help his crazy second family (no, Wally feels zero guilt for that adjective). The thing is, these huge, money sucking events where rich bastards vaunt with their wealth to each other while they pretend they care about the less fortunate are destroying a little piece of Dick’s soul every time he has to attend one. Which leads to the main problem. Wally’s main problem, more specifically.

He sighs.

There is no way he can say no to this. 

It doesn’t mean he can’t try though.

“I don’t have a suit,” the speedster drops in his last card weakly, immediately wincing. 

“Good thing I do have some. Not to mention three credit cards.” He hears the smile in Dick’s voice and it makes him a little bit anxious. “Why do you refuse so much? There will be gorgeous women in more obnoxious dresses than our costumes and a lot of free food.”

Before Wally could come up with a good, solid argument, he hears two little chirping sound in his ear which means he has another call.

“Gorgeous women who want to do nothing with me and… okay, the free food sounds awesome. Can you wait a sec? I have an incoming call.”

“Sure. Must be hard living the life of the popular, I get it.”

“Bite me,” Wally laughs. He lowers down the phone so he can accept the incoming call from an unknown number which makes him frown, then raises it back to his ear. “Yes?”

“Hello, Wallace.”

He almost drops the bowl in surprise. On one hand, no one ever calls him Wallace, except for his grandma, but only in the cases of strangely and inexplicably disappearing chocolate cookies (not that she is able to prove that Wally’s stomach is the local Bermuda triangle, only Barry would be able to catch him in the act and fortunately he is never there). On the other hand, he recognizes the voice after a few confusing seconds.

“Jason?” he asks in disbelief. The response is cold compared to the beginning of the conversation.

“How do you know my name?” 

“Well, I’m sure this unexpected information will crash you but Dick and I occasionally talk about other things beside our non-existent private life. I guess you know my name from him, too. Which I will need to punch him in the face for,” he adds. It makes Jason laugh.

“Actually I hacked into Batman’s computer to get the file he wrote on you.”

“Oh.”

 _I swear to god this damn family_ , Wally swears mutely.

“That is so not cool, dude.”

“I have a good memory and I remember telling you to stop calling me dude.”

“I have a good memory, too, and I remember telling you not to call me anymore at all. What about you tell me what you want since we are both unable to achieve these simple things?” The redhead sighs. “Especially because I don’t want to ask how you got my phone number. Or how Bats got it.”

There is a long moment of silence and Wally uses it to put the popcorn down on the table in front of his couch. Somehow he has the feeling it’s better if his hands are empty.

Jason’s voice gets weirdly serious with an even creepier playful tone under it. “There is something you could help me with. You did well the last time we worked together, and I did a little research on speedsters since then. I could use your abilities.”

“This already sounds shady as hell. Go on,” Wally says giving in. The sooner Jason shares the real reason he called him, the faster he can get back to the other conversation with Dick.

“There is a certain social evening on Friday night I’m pretty sure you’re going to attend to. As I heard, there will be free food and drinks for the sake of the poor, blah, blah.”

Wally is extremely happy that he’s put down that bowl.

“How do you _know_?!”

Seriously, how in the name of Mother Teresa did he know already about something that even Wally didn’t know until his best friend’s call?

“Wrong question. The one you are looking for sounds like, ‘what time do you want me to get there?’”

“I’m not your date, Todd.”

“I’m aware of it. But you wish you were, West.”

The redhead needs a moment to close his eyes and take a big breath while he counts to ten. 

Bruce Wayne’s raised damn monsters. Except for Tim, but Wally often has the feeling the third son in the row doesn’t have too many chances to prevail next to the other three.

“Why do you want me there anyways? I’m quite sure I don’t agree with the handling methods of Red Hood after our last time. You should ask one of your delinquent buddies.”

“Don’t hurt my feelings, Red.” Jason’s voice is annoyingly patronizing. And deep. It makes Wally confused and doesn’t help him focus at all. The whole phone call freaks him out on a very new level, to tell the truth. “None of my delinquent buddies has abilities like you do. With you, it’d take less risk. Also, you just have to watch out and get me outta there if it’s needed.”

Wally lets out an exasperated sigh.

Jason hasn’t said anything concrete yet and it bothers him that he doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to (not that it’s decided he’s agreeing to anything just yet). This ain’t going to be some abandoned warehouse in the middle of an industrial district, this is about a public event full of innocent attendances and without the protection of their uniforms and masks. Even if Wally is fast, he can’t be quick enough to not draw some attention if he speeds up and down during some fancy ball. On the other hand, his curiosity already perked up and this way he can say yes to Dick and keep an eye on his mass murderer step-brother. Frankly, he would do a public service.

But at what cost?

Jason must take the long silence as a sign of strong hesitation, because he clears his throat.

“Y’know, I can pay you.”

“You can what?” 

“I kind of imagine how much, or rather how less money you earn with the whole selfless life risking superhero-ing, so I can pay you,” Jason explains in such an easy tone as if they were talking about dealing with the grass on his yard.

_Jesus christ._

“Thanks for this generous offer, but I think I’ll pass.”

“You are not an easy case, have you been told this before?” Jason makes a slightly annoyed ‘tsk’ noise with his tongue, then a giving up sigh escapes his mouth. “I can make you a deal. What about you come, you help me, and in exchange I promise I will not kill anyone. Or maim. Or seriously hurt. I’ll be a really good boy. I’m willing to follow all the bullshit superhero rules.”

Apparently, Jason Todd is not only a monster but a calculating, dirty asshole and Wally starts to seriously loathe him. Because refusing the money isn’t a complicated thing for him, accepting payment for things he needs his speed for doesn’t feel right for him. However, putting this bargain on the table is way too sly, it’s based upon Wally’s philanthropic feelings. There is no way after this speech he can say no. Knowing that Jason may murder someone while he is drinking champagne with Dick that costs more than a regular person’s income a year. 

Damn this guy.

“You know this is blackmail, right?”

“Don’t throw the stone at me, footloose. I tried to bribe you first but you weren’t giving in. You can’t say I didn’t try.”

Damn this guy so much.

“I’ll be there. No killing, Jason!” Wally finds his dead serious tone he barely uses. “I mean it.”

“I made you a promise, didn’t I?” the antihero asks with a clearly satisfied half smile in his voice. “See you there, red.”

Wally lowers the phone and sighs. He counts to ten again.

Since the other call with Dick disconnected during the little chat with the other young man, Wally calls him back. His best friend picks it up immediately.

“You _are_ very popular, man. Who was it?”

“You don’t wanna know, believe me,” he groans in response. “But good news: I gave another thought to this whole ball miseria and I’m in. I’ll be your wingman.”

“Awesome!” Dick honestly sounds joyful, and this puts a smile on the older’s lips. “Can you come over in the forenoon of Friday? We still need to buy a tux for you. And we should rent a limo.”

That day already seems like one Wally just wants to sleep through so that it will end sooner and it’s only Tuesday.

 

Seeing everything and everyone in their true nature and reality doesn’t necessary mean that Jason is cynical. He’s just able to see all the fucked up shades of their grey world and this is something he can always count on. He barely misreads the pieces around himself. Not anymore, at least. Right now he’s looking at people who are pretending to be nice to each other and generous to the public, while in the warm of their home they’re fantasizing about digging a hole into each other’s chest and ruling the goddamn planet. They are ridiculously rich. They’ve got to where they are, because they robbed, hurt, stepped on others. Jason knows the formula is more complicated than a simple lots of money equals evil. He knows. But these certain, rotten heads of Gotham are all ugly scumbags, and he would literally feel nothing if he liquidated them. Except for some relief. 

But he can’t make them vanish, not now.

Because he made a promise.

Normally the first thing he would have done is going up to the speedster until Dick is busy to welcome assholes in the room. However, he gives himself a few minutes to observe the redhead.

Wally West looks unforgivably good in a tuxedo. Jason has no doubt that the superhero isn’t used to wear one, though, he’s fidgeting and playing with his sleeves without a break, but Jason doesn’t really blame him. He is in an environment which is absolutely strange for him, surrounded by people he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to get to know at all. There is nothing to feel good about here.

Somehow this nervousness suits him. It also encourages Jason to be a little bit of a dick with the guy. 

He grabs a glass of champagne (which probably costs an arm and a leg), sends it down with one big swallow, then steps forward a few feet. He doesn’t want to approach Wally, he only wants him to notice him on the other side of the enormous ball room.

As soon as it happens and his own greyish eyes meet very confused green ones, he points to the closest exit, then without waiting to see the redhead’s reaction, Jason’s already heading toward the rather quiet and empty corridor. 

There are several doors but the thing Jason is interested in is two floors below them anyways. Identical, elegant coffee tables and beautiful, white and lilac orchideas separate the doors, and a long, deep purple carpet leads the way inside to the building. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t realize Wally is right behind him, until his voice drags him out of his thoughts.

“I thought lying to Dick will be the hardest thing to do tonight, but actually it’s stopping myself from punching you.”

Jason turns with a wide, cocky smile towards him. Oh, yes. The tux and the way the other one wearing it are definitely things he could deal with more often. “I see the whole blackmail thing is a sensitive spot for you.”

“I’m not a fan of it, no.” The speedster looks much more relaxed now that there are only the two of them. It’s both entertaining and understandable. “So, what now? What are you planning to do while I watch your back?” he asks, and his voice is full of suspicion.

“I’m gonna ask something else from you first. Probably it will help you figure it out yourself.”

“Because just telling me straightforward would be so hard.”

“Do you know whose property is this?” Jason asks, letting the previous comment go without reacting. Wally opens, then slowly closes his mouth and shakes his head as a clear answer. “Lex Luthor’s.”

This time the older can’t shut his mouth from the shock. He kind of looks horrified which is so damn funny, Jason needs all his self-control to hold his laugh back. On the other hand, it’s very alarming that he hasn’t even done a quick information gathering. Obviously Dick is the more paranoid from the two of them, but Jason never would have thought someone in their business can be so reckless that they attend to an event without doing some background check first. There is a possibility Grayson didn’t want to worry his little friend, yet Jason thinks it’s absolutely stupid not to prepare him beforehand. 

It takes almost a minute until Wally gathers himself together. “We have to tell--”

“No.” Jason interrupts him immediately.

“You don’t even know--”

“Yes, I do. You want to run to Dickie-bird and cry about what you’ve just heard. And no. I asked you because the almighty Nightwing would just get in my way.”

This time the redhead actually looks offended.

“Why do you think I won’t?” 

The ex-Robin is perfectly well aware of the smirk that curls the corners of his mouth up.

“You are cute. But come on, let’s be serious here. I’d love to see _you_ getting in my way.”

Sometimes Roy has a horrible effect on him regarding that little ventil between his brain and his mouth, and this is another great example for it. Of course he knows how fast Wally is. Not just because he finally read those files but because he could experience it first hand at the warehouse. Still, the way the speedster is in his face in the blink of an eye gets him unprepared, and he realizes a little bit late that his hand unconsciously snatched one of his guns and pushed its barrel right into Wally’s pelvis on the left side. 

“Did you see me getting in your way, Todd?” 

_Well shit_ , he thinks, forcing his muscles to relax and to lower the gun. Just in time he is able to hide it behind the wing of his suit as a couple from the room exits and walks pass next to them laughing at something between each other.

His eyes are following the pair until they disappear behind the corner. That’s when he looks back at Wally who has the widest grin on his face he’s ever seen.

 

The young man’s expression changes so quickly that even Wally’s brain is unable to catch up with it immediately; the easiness is gone and gives its place to a cold, disturbingly neutral expression. Although the unknown reason of its coming is more disturbing that the reaction itself.

“Take this.”

The next second a small, button looking device gets tossed right into his hand, and Wally’s already opening his mouth when Jason continues laconically.

“I’ll be two floors under us. If I signal you on this, come and get me.”

Then he spins around and leaves.

Wally can’t fucking believe it.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he murmurs out loud. The bastard blackmails him into helping him, he gets all sassy with him, and in the end suddenly becomes colder than the entire North Pole? What’s wrong with him? Beside dying a horrible death by the Joker and coming back to the living thanks to the Lazarus Pit and a sociopath murderer woman. 

Saying that he is nervous is an understatement.

Watching Jason’s back didn’t seem that complicated a few days ago. Watching his back in Lex Luthor’s house during Lex Luthor’s charity event is a completely different case. This could end really badly and Wally will be able to say nothing in his defense when the whole Justice League wants answers from him and Uncle Barry kills him for being an idiot - which he will deserve. Not to mention Dick’s anger and possible disappointment. Why did he agree to this? Like, he should have just let Dick know what his bloodlust eager step-brother is going to do and stay the hell away from this entire situation. Instead he is here, flinching every time someone comes out of the ball room, and clenching on the tiny signal device as if his life was depending on it.

It feels like an eternity when something finally happens - but not exactly what Wally was hoping for for long minutes. 

“Hey, man. You okay? You disappeared on me, what’s wrong?”

Wally, put his hand on his heart, is absolutely dysfunctioning if it comes down to lying into people’s face and he knows this. There is that time he had to lie about Artemis’ death and let’s just say the only reason he didn’t slip is that he didn’t have to meet his team members too often, only with people who knew the secret. Wally is way too impulsive and emotionally sensitive to keep a good poker face and Dick is way too good at reading in others.

Or at least he recognizes signs right away.

“I’m good,” he rushes with his answer. _Too fast_ , he curses. “I mean, I’m good, I just… I dunno. I needed some air, y’know?”

The worst thing is that Dick obviously looks guilty because he probably thinks Wally’s distress is his fault. The speedster is really going to punch Jason in the face for this.

“I’m sorry for dragging you here,” Dick says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck and looking like a kicked puppy. A handsome puppy but still like a puppy. “I know you are not used to these things and I should have known it’ll make you feel uncomfortable. I can call Alfred and…”

“No, no, no, no, no! It’s all good, dude, don’t worry, okay?” Wally even puts his free hand on his friend’s shoulder and smiles at him reassuringly. “Give me ten minutes and I go back. I still haven’t drunk any from the fancy champagne.”

“You can’t get drunk, do you remember?”

“And? I’m not even allowed to drink now? Especially for free?” Wally asks with too played indignation. He gets a smile for his effort so he considers it a win.

Dick hasn’t even turned away completely when the tiny device starts vibrating in Wally’s grip, almost causing him a heart attack. As soon as the younger disappears in the loudly chatting crowd again, the redhead sprints in the direction where Jason left.

The building they are in is insanely huge, and Wally can only pray that Red Hood had the sanity to turn off the possible security cameras (no way Lex fucking Luthor has any estates without proper security), because he might have the speed to become unable to be tracked, but he is definitely not invisible, and Luthor has met speedsters before. He will know how to catch him on footage and if another super villain finds out about Wally’s true identity, Uncle Barry will bury him. Alive.

He has one starting point: two floors below.

Fortunately, Jason makes him a favour and basically waits for him at the entrance of the level, which is, taking a quick look at the massive, more than four inches thick steel door, can’t hide puppies and nice dreams behind. 

One thing is sure; if Luthor checks the security footages (in case they are working) and sees how Kid Flash rushes out with Red Hood in his arms, bridal style, he absolutely will have a nice afternoon.

Wally doesn’t stop until they reach the darkest and the most devious part of the garden behind the large house which is surrounded by beautiful, broad-leaved rhododendron bushes, creating some kind of hidden glade inside the estate. From the distance, cheerful talking and merry music is flying towards them, mostly blocked by the laid out nature.

Jason pretty much gets tossed into one of the bushes as the redhead decreases his speed to nothing, but he doesn’t have time to wake up from the experience, the older one is in his personal space immediately. 

“You asshole! The hell was this?! You just leave me there, knowing very well that I...”

If sending Jason to an extemporaneous treasure hunt into the depth of a rhododendron is considered extreme action, Wally doesn’t know how to call that when said man grabs onto his nape and pulls their mouths together. It’s most definitely extreme and clearly an action and instead of reacting like a normal, decent human being, Wally _moans_. It doesn’t help that Jason like a predator dives on his mistake and slips his tongue inside his mouth. 

Not that Wally’s defense compacts anything beyond shaking knees and awfully pathetic noises in the back of his throat.

It happens so damn _fast_. Jason’s fingers digs into his skin on his neck, he hisses and bites on the ex-Robin’s lower lip who lets out the most gorgeous grunt Wally has ever heard, and presses against the speedster’s slim body even more. They almost fall into the bushes right behind them, but Jason catches his belt and him with it just in time to prevent it. When the experienced fingers are working on pulling the white shirt out of Wally’s black trousers, he finally sobers up.

He doesn’t pushes the other away, he won’t act like a drama queen and deny that he was as much into the whole making out session as Jason, but he puts some distance between their lips.

And... what now?

He just stares at his company in shock, trying to figure out what the second step is in cases when your best friend’s psychopath little brother kisses you after you save his ass from a rich bastard’s very likely coming revenge, while Jason doesn’t share the same difficulties at all. The left corner of his mouth curls up into a lazy half-smile.

“Knowing very well what?”

“What?”

“I asked first.”

“No, I mean what are you talking about?”

“You said, ‘you know very well that’. I’m just curious what was the end of the sentence. Don’t let me interrupt you when you talk.”

Is this guy even real?

Since he has exactly zero idea how he should retort, Wally just opens then closes his mouth without saying anything. The light of mischief gleams in Jason eyes, but before he can share what’s on his mind, his company’s head snaps to the left, in the direction of the building and a sudden outburst of laughter.

Shit. Dick must be looking for him by now.

“Okay,” he huffs. “I hope you’ve got what you came for, ‘cause my service is done. Also, if I hear anything about injured security guys and a suddenly bloodthirsty Luthor, I’ll find you and make you suffer. Big time.” Wally feels incredibly pathetic for rambling but every time he takes the eye contact with Jason, his stomach flips and his lips start to burn. “It was a pleasure.”

The next nanosecond he’s out of the bush secured glade and stands in the front of the dance room, breathing heavily, looking for Dick’s well-set-up figure and trying to unravel what the holy hell on Mother Earth just happened.

Also, “ _it was a pleasure_ ”? Really, West? Really?

 

Jason usually plans out everything in advance. He calculates with unexpected problems, possible dangerous elements, every outcome that he can imagine. There are escape routes, hiding possibilities in his head, everything he could need to successfully close a mission and be safe even from the unavoidable.

And there are damn Fridays when he literally fucks everything up by listening to his dick and kiss, not a regular guy from the crowd, oh no, but Grayson’s personal sweetheart, Wally West. Not that it’s not understandable from a certain point of view. Jason spends literally days to come to terms with the events of the night, especially with that last part in the garden, and the only conclusion he can put together after 72 hours of brain work is that Wally is definitely a hottie with his blinding green eyes, goofy smile and messy red hair, and Jason also felt a pretty nice body under his hands when he touched him. Let’s just say touching him again wouldn’t give him a headache. Wally’s not afraid of him either and ready to fight him verbally and physically equally, and during the kiss it was obvious he can’t be scared and dominated easily which is appealing for Jason.

These things still don’t explain why he chose that exact moment to make his move, though. In any other cases, like discussing it with Roy over a glass of beer, he would say it was a way to express his gratitude but it doesn’t quite feel like that and one of the first things Jason’s learned that you can lie to everyone as much as you want but never lie to yourself.

Therefore, after another day of chewing over it, he decides on giving it up and putting the problem aside. He has a job to finish after all.

The data he had collected from Luthor is more than enough. Originally he just wanted to prove that Luthor recruits metas from other continents and he illegally transfer them into the USA (for an unknown reason), and he also needed references of the two metas’ DNA they fought with in the warehouse. The samples matched and now he has bank accounts to put his theory into reality. 

“Damn this guy.”

He never liked Luthor, but until now it was a cold, neutral disapproval he felt towards him. It’s grown into pure hatred pretty fast after what he’s done to Roy. 

It’s kind of ironic how the redheads in his life always lead Jason to Luthor and vica versa.

Now that he made sure his suspicion, he has to plan out the next step. Going up against Luthor is risky from several different approaches. First of all, he is a shockingly popular _businessman_ and _philanthropist_ in the eye of the public. He almost won a presidential voting which represents how fucked up America truly is in Jason’s opinion. Secondly, Lex Luthor is a known and quite successful enemy of Superman, the strongest and almost absolutely invulnerable man of steel, and Jason isn’t one to underestimate the opponent. He’s fought so different people and aliens already that he’s learned the 101 lesson: there is always the unexpected element you can’t be prepared for and every time you feel you’ve seen everything, you are wrong.

He needs some coffee.

The apartment he pays for every month strictly and only with cash under the name of Matthew Carter is not exactly a five star winner hotel, but it suits its purpose. The bedroom and the living room are basically fuzed together, furnitures stand on top of each other to use every available surface around the bed. Jason uses the wide bed equally as a place where he can sleep and as a couch as well, so he can watch the tv sometimes. Not that he is bored, but being up to date with the global news is necessary for him.

It’s like a habit, he reaches for the remote and turns it on, while his other hand is looking for a clean mug in the back of the kitchen shelf. The movement stops, when he hears the first words that also makes him face the television.

“...is countless. Several members of the Justice League is at the scene, trying to stop the shapeshifter monster that already destroyed a block of houses.”

The thing the reporter describes is definitely worth of being called a monster, but Jason’s attention is not on it, instead he is doing his best to list the superheroes on the ruined streets. He sees and recognizes a bunch of them, when two untraceable strikes of red and yellow are cutting through the chaos to force the monster back away from a small park full of people whose incredibly low IQ number still hasn’t made them run for their lives.

“Flash and Kid Flash have arrived! And is that Impulse who is following them?” The reporter says excitedly, and Jason shares some of the enthusiasm. It’s definitely a sight as the speedsters line up next to each other, then run into completely different directions when the monster gets back its momentum and makes an attempt of catching them.

 _It seems the coffee has to wait_ , Jason thinks amusedly. He isn’t planning to help anyone, it’s pretty obvious that contrary the financial damage, the League has everything under control, but yet another chance to start an interaction with Wally drifts into his way which he would not miss.

 

It could have ended far worse.

This is the first thing that goes through Wally’s mind as his fingers close around his injured upper arm and he gives a long look to the half splitted road, broken cars and other imprints of the fight. There will be some negative review in the media about how superheroes are reckless and don’t care about the damage they leave behind every time (funny how it’s never mentioned that Uncle Barry always helps rebuild the houses and clean up the city whenever they finish a mission) but they are lucky. Fortunately, no one died and although there are plenty of people waiting for medical attention, it seems today is one of the lucky days. The civilians are alright, the good guys didn’t lose any limbs and the monster isn’t breathing anymore - this is definitely a good day in Wally’s vocabulary.

Until he hears _that_ voice.

All of sudden wearing a skin tight, thin spandex uniform ain’t that smart and cool idea because the redhead has some problems at denying things in his life, especially when he is under the effect of actual, real impulses. Problems like jerking off while fantasizing of your best friend’s smokin’ hot brother. Or getting a boner just hearing his voice.

He quickly considers his options and the level of childishness of pretending to be called by someone from the team and speeding away, but he turns out to be too slow.

“Hey, Footloose.”

“Dammit.”

“Nice to see you, too.” The grin on Jason’s face is obvious even though he wears a red mask. Not the usual helmet though, it only covers the area around his eyes, leaving his strong jawline and freshly shaved skin free to see. It doesn’t help the situation at all, to be honest.

Wally snorts. “What are you doing here? If you came to help…”

“I’m not that desperate about resurrecting my soul, kid.”

“Then? Nightwing isn’t here so…”

“Nope, that’s not it either.”

“Is there a prize or something if I guess it right?”

The predatory smirk tells him that the sarcastic question will not exactly bring the result he hoped for. 

Jason walks closer, and his body language confuses the older enough so that he takes a quick look around whether anyone is nearby. Uncle Barry is currently busy with discussing something with the firefighters who have arrived to the scene just minutes ago, Superman and Conner are working on clearing the street from the bigger pieces and wrecks, the others help the people who got caught up in the fight accidentally. No one really pays attention to them at the little bit secluded place almost under the bridge.

Wally prepares himself to bail on the second oldest in the row of Robins as soon as something dumb leaves his mouth which has a surprisingly significant possibility considering their earlier conversations and it’s surprising in the meaning of that usually it’s Wally’s obligation to say something stupid. But Jason just stares at him until his eyes stop by his left arm.

“Bad?”

“What?” He has to follow the glance to understand. The speedster forces himself to release the still throbbing limb when he realizes what the other refers to. “Oh, no. I’m pretty sure it’s not broken, probably just heavily bruised. It’ll heal soon.”

As a reaction one of Jason’s eyebrows rises slightly, but he doesn’t push the matter. This adds to the confusion, because Wally expected some smartass comments this time as well.

“Do you want to know what the prize is if you guess right?” he asks instead.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, dude. I have mixed feelings ‘cause I absolutely have no idea what you have in mind that could fit in a prize category. You seem like the “collecting my enemies’ heads as a trophy” type of guy.”

Jason facepalms.

“This isn’t The Walking Dead and I’m not the Governor.” Wally can’t stop the grin forming on his lips. The fact that Red Hood watches zombie apocalypse tv shows in his free time lifts his spirit and average mood considerably. “And no, I don’t collect heads. Do you know what smell the rotting human body has? I’m not a savage.”

“No, you are clearly not. You are a respectful and concerned citizen of the country.”

“Don’t make me blush.”

Wally shakes his head with a little smile in the corner of his mouth. What can he say? He likes how Jason can keep up with the flow of his mouth and speeded up brain. 

“I give up, by the way. What’s the big prize?” he asks, knowing perfectly that the other man just needs him to grab after the bait. Because this is the game and the roles are quite obvious at this point.

He isn’t wrong but his lips part helplessly when he hears the offer, which basically makes him look like a dying goldfish on two legs.

“Come home with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“We can go to your place if you insist, but I bet my bed is bigger. You know, I have money.” 

Wally blinks. His expression becomes a little troubled under the mask as he realizes that Jason isn’t kidding him right now. He is serious. He wants him to go with him and this time it’s not happening only in his head. And the redhead wants to say yes so badly, he wants to say yes since they kissed, this is exactly what also holds him back at the same time. Unfortunately, he knows himself and he tends to nod way before he considers the consequences.

“I’m not sure if it’s really a good idea.” he says, to tell the truth, pretty pathetically. Like a five year old kid who says no to chocolate while he wants nothing more than chocolate. 

“Why?” Jason rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me it’s the we are both dudes thing.”

“No, god no! If the river of my saliva didn’t give me away every time you showed up till now, you should hit up your doctor to get your eyes checked out. That’s literally the last thing that concerns me.” 

This information is clearly pleasing for Jason, because the grin comes back to his lips.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Everything?” Wally laughs nervously, glancing back over his shoulder. It’s kind of disappointing how still no one cares about what he is doing at the moment. “We barely know each other and I’ll be honest, I’m not the master of one night stands.”

“So… Does this mean you don’t want to be a one night stand?” Jason asks, and his voice seems so much deeper all of sudden. Wally swallows, and tries to calm the hormone rampancy inside his body as the younger but clearly burlier man leans close to him, filling the speedster’s head with the smell of his cologne, and touches Wally’s shoulder briefly. He can’t suppress the shudder that’s shaking him for nanoseconds. “You don’t have to be, y’know. Usually I don’t plan anything regular but if you are afraid of me leaving you right after, don’t be.”

Somehow Wally believes him without the smallest doubt. Jason looks like a person who is not interested in telling white lies in order to make someone feel better. The fact that their… thing, could be a two or even more times thing gives him the urge to just say yes.

Then he remembers another little problem.

“What about Dick?” 

“What about him?” The younger’s eyes narrow during the question and the tenseness is touchable in the air immediately. 

“Do you think we should go behind his back? I’m not even sure, we can, I’m terrible at hiding stuff, and…”

“What does anything have to do with Grayson between us?” Jason interrupts him angrily. His whole face is scrunching from anger. Wally is pretty sure he fucked up somewhere in the last few moments, but he’s unable to pinpoint it out until the black haired guy continues, stepping back and away from him at the same time. “If you need him to make a simple decision which is absolutely up to you, by the way, maybe you should go home. Eat some ice cream and let me know when you reach the age and mentality of an adult.”

What.

The.

Hell.

The superhero is unable to tell if his stomach shrinks or the embarrassed blush climbs onto his face sooner. Last time he felt like this Aunt Iris scold him for using his speed against regular kids to win a running race in the school. The sudden parallel between that time and his current situation doesn’t help him a bit, but it shakes him up enough to quickly reach after Jason’s hand despite the fact that he would rather run away. 

First Jason glances at his fingers, then up at his face. He looks surprised and still angry but also expectant. Wally licks his dry lips before he starts murmuring.

“I wanna go with you.” The only reason he is able to stare at Jason and not break the eyecontact is that the assassin actually seems surprised. He lets him go just in case, though. Getting punched by Red Hood ain’t on his agenda today. “You don’t have to be an asshole, though. Jackass.” He adds finally looking away.

Jason’s sudden chuckle comes out of nowhere and it’s followed by his arm wrapped around Wally’s shoulder and back.

 

Not that he is expecting some sweet talking on the way to Jason’s loft (or to one of them if he is as paranoid and overly careful as the other members in his adoptive family), but the way he finds himself stuck between the closed door and the man the second they walk through the sill is very unexpecting. The ex-Robin doesn’t waste time; he presses his lips against his, immediately biting on Wally’s bottom one that makes the redhead hiss and grab at the muscled arms. Very, very muscled arms. Like very. He has to moan from the feeling, and Jason isn’t slow this time either to take advantage of the opportunity.

Soon the whole room spins around Wally.

“Bedroom?” he asks out of breath as his fingers tug on Jason’s brown jacket. He seriously needs to touch those arms without any clothes between their skin, he can’t really concentrate on anything else at the moment, so Jason’s low laugh registers in his brain a few seconds late.

“No, this is the living room.” Wally shamelessly grunts and bites into the man’s neck. The turn to hiss is on Jason now. “Okay, okay, you little leech. I’m gonna show the way.”

Showing the way, as the assassin slash antihero put it, is merely Jason holding onto the speedster’s slim waist, his fingers digging into his pelvis while he slides behind Wally and pushes him in the direction of the requested room. For a brief moment Wally tells himself that he should take a look around, see how the infamous Red Hood lives when he is out of his costume and helmet, check for the signs of craziness or on the contrary the lack of it, maybe catch some embarrassing details he can tell Dick about later, but right when Jason’s warm chest gets in contact with his back, he loses all his will to keep his eyes open. Although walking blind is not the easiest, Wally’s not really afraid because the other leads him steadily and they don’t bump into anything on their short journey.

The accommodation of the room is quite spartan: the bed fills out almost the whole place, but Wally has to give it to Jason, his bed is huge indeed. Especially compared to the one he has at his apartment.  
He turns around the same time when Jason shoves him with enough strength to make him end up on the mattress and on his back.

“Hey, what the--” 

Not much prevents Wally from a total brain meltdown as Jason pulls off the jacket, then unceremoniously drops his black shirt down as well, leaving the speedster a pile of squeaking mess. The wide chest is not free from scars but it definitely has less than some other people Wally knows, and they don’t ruin the sight at all. The opposite, really. Wally feels like touching the available skin like right about now.

Apparently, Jason is absolutely well aware of the effect his half naked body has, because his grin almost reaches his ears.

“Iwannatouchyou.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“I said,” he mumbles impatiently, “I wanna touch you so come here.”

“I didn’t hear the magic word.”

 _Okay, that’s it_ , the irritated thought rushes through Wally like a hurricane. Using his speed against people who have no special abilities is not entirely right on a moral ground, but he couldn’t care less. If it’s fair to tease him, it is definitely fair to join the game.

Jason looks shocked when after the blink of an eye the young man disappears in front of him, and before he can react, there are lips touching his nape, hands on his stomach and the sensible sign of a great interest in him by his ass. He doesn’t even try to hold the groan back, he even tilts his head to the right to offer more surface. It’s been a while since the last time he had sex and he won’t deny, hooking up with whatever women are available in the nearest club or pub to his current headquarters don’t always provide the best one night stand experience. He already feels the goosebumps all over him and they haven’t done anything serious yet, which suggests him that he didn’t make a bad decision. He isn’t making one right now. If something, the redhead’s enthusiasm assures him.

When Jason gets impatient, they both lose their clothes pretty quickly except for the underpants. When Wally gets impatient, they end up on the bed with the speedster on top. His whole face a large blush, equally because of their activity and the tiny fact that Jason is way too handsome and attractive with his hair messed up, lips big and red, eyes dark and light grey at the same time like some strange, unearthy storm.

“Well, what’s gonna be, West?” the younger asks, sliding his hands up and down from his waist to his shoulders, touching certain points longer when he sees Wally’s eyes fluttering as a reaction to the sensitive areas being touched. “Lost your interest? I think it’s too late to turn back. Or you need a really good excuse.” 

“I don’t want to stop, I just…” He stops talking and presses his lips together as a quite intense shudder shakes his whole body. Jason’s eyes widen slightly. “Dammit. Damn.” This clearly isn’t enough to persuade him about that everything is fine, because his hands stop moving instantly. 

“Are you having some kind of weird stroke? Because if you are, that’s a pretty fucking good excuse to stop.”

Wally shakes his head violently.

“Please, don’t. I’m just… having a problem with h-holding back.”

“Holding back what?”

His question earns an answer when the black haired man’s right hand swings into motion again and his fingers wander to the other’s firm, nicely rounded buttcheeks. The speedster gasps, his shoulders are straining back and he’s burying his face into Jason’s neck who couldn’t fucking believe it if he didn’t see it with his own two eyes: Wally is having an orgasm. From only touching him and not even directly but through _his briefs_.

How was this even possible?

Seeing only a sweaty ball of red hair from the boy at the moment and lying as motionlessly as possible under him, Jason calculates with his chances of not making him any more embarrassed than he already is the moment he opens his mouth. He is a douchebag but not that cruel.

“Woah. You weren’t kidding. I knew I was good, but I never made anyone come only from a PG-13 foreplay before. Good job me.”

A loud groan is his result. It definitely seems angry but not in the I-will-kick-you-out-right-the-fuck-now kind of way. It’s aimed mostly at himself which Jason sure as hell can’t let. He is just a nice guy like that. Therefore he reaches behind the older’s head, grabs his face and kisses him. It’s pretty alluring how Wally slowly relaxes into the kiss and Jason’s body.

In the end he basically nestles to Jason, turning his head aside and taking some deep breathes. When the silence gets dangerously deep and long, Jason considers pushing the redhead off of him, since his boner is anything but unnoticeable and urging with every second.

“I didn’t plan it like this.” Wally murmurs suddenly.

“So you planned this out? You dirty bastard.”

This earns a low chuckle. “Let’s just say I had some ideas in my head. Luckily for you, I know myself and I figured out a safety plan for a situation like this.”

Before Jason can voice his curiosity about what kind of safety plan he means exactly and what the situation word definites right now, Wally raises his hips a little bit, just enough so that he can lead a hand down on Jason’s body and slide it into his currently very tight briefs to close his fingers around his cock. In an instant the assassin sits up leaning on his elbows and curses. Wally flashes a grin at him before he does something pretty unexpected.

His fucking fingers start to vibrate around him.

Jason’s moan probably echoes from every corner of the world but he doesn’t feel like giving any shit about it, because that intense massaging feeling is the best thing he has ever experienced during sex.

“I’ve done this only to myself so far, so… let me know if you don’t like it. I liked it,” Wally adds cheekily and Jason is one hundred percent sure the little shit is absolutely well aware of that the thing he’s doing is a gift from the holy mighty.

Wally easily moves his hand up and down, while his thumb occasionally takes a higher route to rub the head of Jason’s member, which sends shakes over the mentioned man. He’s biting his lip so hard that Wally is afraid a little bit he will break the skin, but Jason doesn’t say stop so he doesn’t stop. Not when amazingly colourful swearing leaves his mouth again, not when his body goes rigid and not when grabbing on the sheets he comes, the speedster helps him through it. 

“Fuck me.”

“I’m good to go,” the redhead answers as he casually wipes his hand off on Jason’s muscled and rapidly rising and sinking chest. The action earns him a murdering glare that literally has zero effect on its target. 

Jason’s face turns blank. “Shut up.” He glances down and sees the apparent proof of that Wally says the truth. If the kid was impressive so far, this is mindblowing without any question. “What the hell. I’m younger than you and I still need fifteen minutes break.”

“Speedster fast metabolism, nice to meet you.”

On one hand, he wants to tell him where he should shove his fast metabolism up. However, on the other hand this whole thing that started as a one night stand seems to get more and more interesting with every passing second and having someone in his bed he can literally have sex with all night is not an opportunity he will waste. Those happily shining green eyes guarantees him it won’t be an easy and problem free ride, but he won’t really regret it if he hops on.

So he does.


End file.
